


thief

by trusteachother



Series: you got me in love again [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Jonsa Drabble Fest, Pining, day 2: stolen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trusteachother/pseuds/trusteachother
Summary: It hadn't been right to take it without permission, he should've at least left a note, but he knows he could never look Sansa in the eye again if he had.for the drabble fest; prompt: stolen
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: you got me in love again [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739029
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71
Collections: Jon x Sansa Drabble





	thief

**Author's Note:**

> jon + a lot of feelings

Jon owns no garments that are as soft as the shift he holds in his hands. He supposes it's silk or maybe velvet. Maybe if he'd actually asked for it, he'd know for certain. 

It hadn't been right to take it without permission, he should've at least left a note, but he knows he could never look Sansa in the eye again if he had.

If only Bran still lived and wore the crown, perhaps Sansa would've accepted coming down to bear the heat of King’s Landing with him. He wishes once again for her presence though he knows how much she's suffered, caged by these very walls. How much she's had to endure in her own home because of him, that too.

No, he's glad she stayed at Winterfell, she has all the reminders she needs for what _was,_ she doesn't deserve to stare at the burnt ceiling like he does.

It seems he can't avoid hurting her, can't stop taking from her and this indulgence of his only adds to his greediness. 

He bunches the dark blue shift in his hands and hates himself when he imagines her beneath him, panting his name, caressing his chest as she does his face sometimes. Familiarly, _sisterly_ , always the proper lady, even toward her bastard cousin. 

Would she still treat him thus, if she knew how painfully he lusts after her? Would she continue to mend his shirts and fuss over the length of his hair? Would she want to sit with him by the fire, cup of mead in her hand, long after the hearth has dimmed to embers? Or would she be shocked, disgusted, repulsed?

He'd hurt her, betrayed her, still she'd forgiven him, wanted him back as her king, rallied the North's support once again. She trusted him with her deepest secrets and most precious dreams, considered him her closest friend; still he wanted her heart. 

“ _Sansa,_ ” he moans to the empty room, his free hand closing around his cock while the other holds the stolen shift to his face. He buries his nose in it, trying to catch her vanishing scent. Something lemony, nothing short of indescribable. 


End file.
